


That's An Order

by addendum



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Blowjobs, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sherlock Has a Military Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 23:44:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9043865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addendum/pseuds/addendum
Summary: Sherlock is pouting, and John has the perfect solution.





	

John adored Sherlock Holmes. He was brilliant, obviously. The most stunningly, breathtakingly, most goddamn amazingly intelligent person John had ever known. But it wasn't only that. He was charming, too. He had a wonderful laugh, and he was oftentimes quite amusing. Sometimes when he did not intend to be. And, most surprisingly of all, he was kind. Not everyone had the pleasure of seeing this, of course. Hardly anyone did. But John knew. He knew that Sherlock was kind and good and funny and he also knew he possessed the striking ability to at times be absolutely unbearable. And John Watson loved him through all of that and more. 

Today, however, Sherlock was being incredible obstinate. Particularly so. An unresolved case had left him sleep deprived and unrelenting in his insolence, especially when addressing John, who was about at his wit's end. The case was a murder, naturally. And it had something to do with a prostitute, perhaps? John couldn't quite remember. All he knew was that Sherlock had spent the afternoon alternating between staring at the evidence gathered from the crime scene in utter frustration and marching through the flat in a way not completely unlike the style of walking often attributed to only the Nazi regime. If John dared make any attempt to break through the stony silence and into any kind of pleasant conversation, he would be met with only a clipped, very tense response. It was becoming rather  
old. 

The relatively new romantic romantic relationship that had semi recently been formed by the duo was typically a source of great comfort for Sherlock during both genuinely trying times and his frankly melodramatic sulking about comically minor inconveniences. John's soft voice and kind words had always done wonders for Sherlock's mental health. Today, on the other hand, any and all of John's attempts at affection or physical contact were only serving to stress the detective out further. John looked quite frustrated now himself, and Sherlock sensed an argument brewing. That could potentially be...interesting. At times when circumstances bred tension between the two, John was inclined to relieve it in a way he and Sherlock both found quite enjoyable. Currently he looked as though he was deliberating between this coarse of action or an actual quarrel. Not that debating Sherlock was never very fun, as fights with him were practically impossible to win. With this thought, John decided once and for all how he wanted to absolve his anger. He made his way to his bedroom, fully aware that Sherlock wouldn't notice the sudden lack of his presence. 

He swung open his closet door and eyed the ensemble he was looking for. Military attire, leftover from his days in the army. John felt his heart race a little faster, both at the prospect of what was to come and at the memory of his past, before the blow to his shoulder had ripped from him the constant adrenaline rush and excitement that came with being a soldier. Not that it would have been ideal for him to have stayed any longer in Afghanistan, as he almost certainly would not have met Sherlock had that been the case. He pulled on his uniform quickly, and made sure to drape the dogs tags around his neck. They were Sherlock's favorite part. 

He strode toward the spot where Sherlock sat on their sofa with purpose, and stood before him glaring. Sherlock looked up then, and startled slightly. 

"Holmes, get up!" He barked. Sherlock and he both agreed that the use of his sir name during sexual role play allowed them to immerse themselves more completely into the experience. 

"Yes, sir!" Sherlock responded immediately as he leaped from the couch, his eyes glimmering with excitement. Sherlock had been absolutely thrilled when he first realized that John would be willing to provide him with this particular escape from his vexation. He was eternally grateful that John was so ready and willing to indulge him in this long held fantasy, and that he enjoyed being dominant. As childish as Sherlock was being today, he was still completely head over heels for the man standing before him. John Watson, who made him feel safe and secure, and who also fulfilled his greatest and most secret sexual desires. Sherlock had spent many sleepless nights fixated on the idea of John in his uniform. John ordering him around. John's tan thighs and how they would look in contrast to his own very pale skin. John's body in general. 

"Go straight to the bedroom. Right now. No arguing!" John commanded in a gruff tone that left no room for disagreement. John cringed inwardly at his words, not liking the sound of his own voice treating Sherlock this way. Logically, he knew, it was okay. They'd discussed this thoroughly in the past. Sherlock was aroused by the idea of a handsome soldier bossing him around. Still, though, it made John a little sad to even think of someone talking to his sweet Sherlock so sharply, with no regard for his feelings.

Sherlock shuddered slightly as he walked quickly to the bedroom, suppressing a smile. He recalled the first time John had adopted this persona within a sexual setting. It was the same day he'd found out about Sherlock's secret adoration of men in uniform, specifically when they were giving him orders. John teased Sherlock mercilessly upon first discovering this fact, but later that evening he'd donned the outfit in question. Sherlock had been completely smitten, of course. He still was. 

As they reached the bedroom, John slammed the door behind them, cringing a little at the loud bang that followed and hoping it didn't startle Sherlock to badly. He shook those thoughts proceeded to take Sherlock by his broad shoulders and shove him roughly into the door, relishing the soft and needy gasp that escaped the consulting detective's lips. John smirked and leaned forward, but only allowed his own mouth to brush against Sherlock's, taunting him. Sherlock whined in frustration, and John redirected his pursed lips so he could whisper into the other man's ear. 

"Sit on the bed," he growled. Sherlock shivered as John's warm breath ghosted against his skin, and for second he only stared at him, like a deer in the headlights. John was less than pleased. 

"Did you not hear me, soldier? I. Said. Sit. That's an order." 

"Yes, Captain," Sherlock whimpered, scurrying into the aforementioned position on the edge of he and John's bed. John followed behind and stood before him, looking down. He watched as Sherlock's chest heaved up and down and his cheeks reddened with anticipation. John reached for Sherlock's curls and bent to kiss him, pulling their mouths together harshly. As they continued, John sat down next to Sherlock on the bed and began to remove his tightly fitting shirt. Those goddamn shirts. They drove John mad, and he rather enjoyed tearing this one from Sherlock's body, watching as a couple of buttons popped off. 

"Suck me off, soldier," he commanded in a low voice, taking the dog tags from around his own neck to place them around Sherlock's. He knew Sherlock loved the feeling of wearing them. Of knowing he was marked as John's property. John saw Sherlock's pleased expression and yanked on the chain, pulling him in for a rough kiss. Sherlock whimpered at this, and John pulled them again to gauge his response. Sure enough, Sherlock moaned with pleasure and, perhaps subconsciously, leaned in for additional contact. John grinned wickedly and reared away, teasing. 

"Kneel, Holmes," John whispered gruffly. Sherlock did what he was told immediately, obviously a bit overeager to please. John smiled down at him smugly, knowing that Sherlock enjoyed when he appeared cocky and sure of himself. 

Sherlock moaned softly, and reached to pull off the bottom half of John's uniform, but in his haste removed his boxers as well. John made a move to remove his shirt, but Sherlock placed a hand on his arm.

"No, captain," he implored, "keep the uniform on. Please." John grinned, taking note of how Sherlock still managed to look a little sheepish even in the midst of such a moment. Sherlock liked to be completely naked in this particular context, as it gave him a certain vulnerability that contributed to the allure of John's dominance, and, in turn, his own subservience. 

"Alright, Holmes, get to work," John ordered, toying with the tags around his lover's neck. Sherlock obeyed. He left kisses along John's inner thighs, in a sweet yet excruciatingly slow manner that had John curling his toes. 

"Get a move on, soldier. We don't have all day." He said, voice tense, trying not to sacrifice the rough edge he was meant to be maintaining. 

"Of course, Captain." Sherlock leaned forward tentatively and licked once along the length of John's shaft. John sighed with the relief of Sherlock's tongue finally brushing his skin. This encouraged the detective and he licked once more before turning his attention to the tip. He swirled his tongue around it generously, eliciting a moan from John. Sherlock looked up to his commander as though searching desperately for further instruction. 

"Continue." John said simply, in a rather strained voice. 

Sherlock began to bob his head up and down, all the while attempting to keep eye contact with John, whose cock was hard almost to the point of aching. He admired Sherlock from his spot on the bed, absorbing the image of his milky white skin and the very faint arrangement of freckles scattered across his shoulder blades. John gripped Sherlock's curls tighter and tighter as the other man continued. 

"Faster, harder!" He exclaimed, voice still hard and tough, in keeping with his image. This tone of absolute authority encouraged Sherlock further, and he moaned softly from around John's length. John opened his mouth to warn Sherlock then, but all that came out was a sharp yell as warm fluid filled Sherlock's mouth. 

"Swallow it, soldier." John ordered even through his blissful state, watching Sherlock's flushed face as he did so.

"Get up." John said, still spoken like a command. Sherlock grabbed the mattress in order to hoist himself up, and sat down next to John. 

"Now it's your turn, soldier," John said seductively, leaning forward with a smirk. Sherlock shook his head though, evidently embarrassed. 

"No, John," he replied, no longer in character, "I already...um..", he trailed off, turning his head to hide his pink cheeks from John's line of sight. John arched his eyebrows in genuine surprise and chuckled, amused. 

"You came? Just from that?" He asked, incredulous. Sherlock nodded in sheepish confirmation. 

"Jesus, Sherlock. You really like that uniform, huh?" He teased. Sherlock nodded once more, he face turning darker shades of red by the second. John grinned, and tilted toward the other man in order to gift him a chaste kiss on the cheek. Sherlock took this as a cue to turn his face back in John's direction. 

"I love you, John." He spoke abruptly, and with conviction. His eyes were focused and his expression solemn. Embarrassingly enough, John felt a shift in his stomach at the words. Almost like butterflies. He smiled. 

"I love you too, Sherlock," he responded, taking hold of the other man's hand and intertwining their fingers. Sherlock smiled too, and spoke again. 

"I'm sorry for earlier, by the way. I, um, shouldn't have...taken my frustration out on you." Sherlock apologized, clearly a little unsure about the proper protocol for making up with someone. John smiled reassuringly, and rose from his place on the bed, beginning to get dressed again. 

"It's alright, love. I know better than anyone how much of a bloody prick you can be when given the proper chance. Oh, hey! Maybe if I get into my uniform and order you to solve the case, you'll have a breakthrough!" He suggested with a kind laugh. 

Sherlock glared and threw a pillow his way, but couldn't help considering if John might be on to something. Well, Sherlock loved nothing if not a good experiment.


End file.
